


good care

by TedTheFat



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, mention of drug use, not yet, plants are not abused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22869775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TedTheFat/pseuds/TedTheFat
Summary: Shadwell had a small potted plant in his hands. Crowley didn’t remember where it came from. Had it been there when he came at night the other day and dragged that slacker to bed?
Relationships: Crowley/Sergeant Shadwell (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	good care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tenok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenok/gifts).



> a little treat for the bae  
> get better, sunshine

— Ya know, they say you should talk to ‘em to keep 'em healthy.

Crowley rested on his elbow and turned a bit, distracted from his very important task of viewing colorful spots wandering around the ceiling. Color TVs were so cool. Right now, though, he's in a bit of meditative mood to actually watch the thing and only wanted to leisurely lay in the bed still warm from human heat and think of nothing. He didn’t even need any dope to reach such a state. He was cool like that, occult being and all.

Not like he’s been doing so much occult these days. So more convenient it became to just work directly with humans and help them destroy their society’s peace by themselves. Took a bit more time than miracling stuff but was so so much fun!

Having a job — sort of —meant needing holidays though. Well, not needing-needing, he could exist without rest at all. But he demanded his beauty sleep and other little bodily pleasures for staying energized and productive. And on top of this the more time he spent with humans the more ideas he got. No matter how hard he tried they were always one step ahead on the creativity field.

— To those who say that? — He snorted at his currently favored human who dared to require his majesty's attention. Punished he should be if the subject’s not amusing enough. Crowley had all kinds of ideas for that including all kinds of sins from his side. 

The main idea was to encourage the sins in his pet, probably, but that’s what’s called learning from example. 

Crowley could present pretty fine examples of sloth and lust any time of a day, also wrath if a little irritated. He seemed the most patient demon in some important business, but on a daily basis? No patience at all and not his problem how you deal with that. Greed, envy, pride? Sure thing. He lived by those or how would he build such a reputation in Hell? He could even go for boring gluttony if properly stimulated. Which he has been from time to time. Mostly by humans recently.

So, professional tempter, he was, no less. Sinfull to his core and too alluring not to fall for this as if all his shit was just some charming zest. 

To be honest, he could never understand why some humans found him attractive enough not only to shag but to try and spend their lives beside him. His best guess was that came from the same place in their minds that made them so good at inventing all sorts of murderous stuff from head-cutting machines to borderline-poisonous food. 

— Pff, no. To the plants.

He was quite a looker, that guy. Tall, nicely built. Haircut outdated for a decade. Crowley always liked his lovers a bit old-fashioned. Red lips, blush cheeks, will have heart problems at an older age. High blood pressure. And also something nasty 'cause of how much of a sweet tooth he was. Diabetes they call it now, right? Something like that. But yes, nicely built indeed. Could speak any kind of nonsense but be forgiven while Crowly looked at the shoulder blades slowly moving under his skin. Almost as calming as those nice shapes on the ceiling. Not so colorful though. May be a good idea to put him under the disco ball or in front of some lovely vitrage.

Of course, the boy chose that exact moment to turn around. Fine, the face was also okay. Unshaven. Asking to be touched. So, maybe no punishments needed even if he chatters of something ambiguously interesting. Plants, right?...

— Do they have ears? — Crowley was honestly not sure. Knew too much about how things had been built up in the sky to catch every detail of the organic life. Never had enough time to learn about that.

He stood up form the bed, naked except for the glasses. Funny thing this one haven’t actually asked why they were always on. Hint on the curiosity here and there, but no pressure, no trying to take a peek, seemingly no real interest at all. Crowley would be offended, he all but lived with the guy for a couple of months by now, pretty serious thing for a human. But that was Shadwell. The most unflappable weirdo in the whole of London. Never needing proofs to what he believed in, really focused on what he wanted to, and blatantly ignoring anything else. Not with arrogance but with a simple shrug. Not his business such stuff was. There was some sweet kind of acceptance in that. Sincere and naive, stupid even. But oh so sweet.

Sometimes Crowley fantasized about coming out as demon to this one but then found inappropriate feeling of mercy in himself. He made an excuse of boredom before himself. Has done that prank too much trough history. Enough to know that Shadwell will both believe him and get shaken for the rest of his life. There’s a limit to any kind of acceptance.

Still, he was pretty fun to keep around. Comfortable, loyal, bold. Soft and hard in right places, hot head and simply hot under Crowley’s hands. Warmed up by the so-called sun half-assedly shining through the window.

— That’s not the point! — Boy shivered while Crowley’s cold palms were slowly creeping from his back to belly counting ribs on the way. The demon slowly wrapped around his body, as much as being person-shaped allowed him. Rested his chin on the other’s shoulder, practically laying on his back refusing to hold any of his own weight. Why do it while Shadwell’s around? He’s solid like oak-tree and as much fine to hang from. Would be lovely to just curl around that strong neck in loose rings, relax and go for a nap. Not gonna happen though. What a shame.

— But do they? And where did you get this?

Shadwell had a small potted plant in his hands. Crowley didn’t remember where it came from. Had it been there when he came at night the other day and dragged that slacker to bed to fuck and sleep till boring human body finally demanded more sorts of care? They both were not much into counting days. There was a phone for emergencies (and another for all sorts of nonsense). While it was earthly business Crowley stayed his own boss. Felt peachy.

— From lady next door. Asked to water it while in hospital then died. Had nice jewelry and some silver in the kitchen. — No sympathy at all what a nicely bad boy. — See? No ears on them. 

He turned green thing from side to side, put in on the windowsill and tumbled in Crowley’s weak embrace to make them stand nose to nose. To his credit, he managed not to drop his lazy cargo on the floor. Crowley knew how to choose them. And had nothing against being manhandled if that meant no need to pretend his spine worked as it should. Shadwell held him tight enough not to put any effort into standing at all. Such a dear.

— On you though…

The boy rubbed his cheek against Crowley’s in quite a pleasant manner then tugged on his ear with teeth. Ouch. Nice Still no mood for such games though. What he wanted was to be carried back to bed where he could stare into the void again. Maybe with some weed after all just for aesthetic. Or just a ciggy they were easier to get found on Shadwell after all.

\- I say you what ... - He whispered after letting out an appropriately encouraging sigh. Positive reinforcement. This one was far from shy but could get kinda passive from time to time. No need for him to think his initiative unwelcome. - We keep that for later and right now you put me to bed, lit me one and turn the TV down. Just the sound, I have a headache.

— Why watch it without sound?

— Who said I gonna watch it?

Shadwell snorted amusedly and finally shifted Crowlyw in his hands to make their way to the bed more carrying than dragging. Probably would be easier if his corporation was shorter but he had what he had and wasn’t much into shapeshifting. No more than necessary anyway. 

First thing after returning to bed he inspected his object of study. Colors were still on the ceiling but shaped differently. What a shame to miss the change of the pattern. For plants without ears. Funny thing though. Last time he saw humans talking to trees they prayed to them. Shadwell was no pagan that Crowley knew for sure. So much against witchcraft this one. And really good at finding occult wasn’t he? Not so good at recognizing it, but still…

The Witchfinder Army Lance-Corporal Shadwell. So serious yet so shady. The best possible sort, a believer who has no shame and sees no bad in making a con from his high mission. Adorable. Crowley had never asked for his first name. Why spoil such a complete character?

— Tell me more. — He took a deep drag after the fag was obediently put in his mouth and lit by Shadwell’s old lighter which had some intricate engraving on. As obviously stolen as most of his belongings were. The boy had a style though.

— About what? — Shadwell towered over him but Crowley couldn’t be bothered less. If he’s into standing that’s just his loss. Laying position was superior. Not like he would move to let him in the bed of course.

— Your plant and all that cooing you did. I thought you saw a cat outside or something

The boy all but lit up which was obvious without looking. And that could only mean one thing...

— See, ya not just meant to talk. It should be emotional. So the plant knows what to do. You know what that sounds like? — Oh, Satan, he knew. — Witchcraft! Whitches always charm their plants. But! They do it meaning harm. And it works. So obviously if ya speak with good intention it will make a good-willed plant. Proper one!

Fuck, that was too amusing. Disgusting, all that laughing was going to ruin such a nice brooding time. But that was why he kept this one close, right? One of the reasons at least.

— The plant with moral code, huh? Gonna take it to your army? By the way. Where are all of your superiors again?...

This made Shadwell turn around and drop himself to the floor his back to the bed. Like Crowley would do as much as move his head. Not today. Today he let hot ashes crumble right to his bare chest. Sparks burnt a little, felt funny. Homelike.

— Busy people they are! Why asking, are ya in need of the whole army? Thought good old me is quite enough seeing how tired you are.

— Don’t flatter yourself Lance Corporal. I could go through all your troops if feeling like that. And I just have a migraine. So fuck off.

Shadwell laughed like a little shit he was, reached forward stretching long hands of his and finally silenced the blasted TV. Not that Crowley could actually have headaches but he was in the mood and wanted to whine and grumble about the world not being comfortable enough. It was fun to have someone to order about on such days. And this one obviously found it as pleasuring as Crowley himself. Weird little creature.

— As I said, witches are those who invented it, I’m positive. Gonna dig it up.

— Than what?

— … catalogue the stuff? — He sounded a bit unsure. No wonder, such a huge ordeal. Would probably include a lot of reading. Poor librarians. Crowley should keep him company once or twice to make their misery complete and artful.

And they kept talking about evil plants and gardening witches and — occasionally — awful commercials ‘cause they were on the screen Shadwell faced and also embodied witchcrafty-planting propaganda. And that was fun and peaceful and at some moment Crowley found the way to space out enough to continue the chitchat while gazing his little light show and thinking nothing. Nothing enough to give away a bit more knowledge of herbalism than he probably should. He lived amongst witches sometime ago. A long time ago. So long that they probably were truly extinct now and his pet’s little army had nobody to hunt except some hippies.

A weird thing, time is.

It would be a couple of years since Crowley had decided it’s time to leave his last human’s life for good when he caught the glance on TV and saw some obviously trustworthy lady explaining that for plants to grow better you should communicate with them. An excellent idea, Crowley thought. Who is he not to belive what Channel Four says? 

Plants needed someone to talk and Crowley needed something alive and liked to talk, seemed like a good match. After all, that little thing Shadwell left at his before being gently kicked out continued to thrive without any attention from its new master. Obviously the result of all the cooing the previous had done. Why again it ended up at Crowley’s? Some rental problem or something? Was Shadwell trying to move in or was that the previous one? No, the moving one was a bird not a bloke. Should be previous. The rent then. Naturally. He had probably stopped showering the guy with cash while lost interest. Yeah, sure. Not like he ever stopped giving that rascal money. And that was why, so he wouldn’t end up homeless. Humans had no tendency to grow healthier with age.

The plant had though. Crowley should learn more about them. Finally the time for organics at his six-thousand-and-none-of-your-business age. So he would go and acquire something green to start. Could as well give a try to that old little… something on the shelf, but what for? It was already well-trained.

And not like Crowley ever looked at the blasted thing. Why would he?


End file.
